


Oblivious

by mahbecks



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chill XV, Explicit Language, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Romance, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 18:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10836807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbecks/pseuds/mahbecks
Summary: Filled for the Final Fantasy XV Kinkmeme:Clarus sees how his son looks at the prince's advisor. Iris has complained that Gladio keeps mooning over Ignis.Clarus decides to sit Gladio down and talk about why he hasn't asked Ignis out yet, because even the King has noticed that Ignis feels the same about Gladio.





	Oblivious

**Author's Note:**

> Figured I'd try something different, and this prompt on the kink meme was practically calling my name :)
> 
> I don't actually know what Clarus' wife's name was (and I haven't ever found anything giving her one), so here I have named her Ceres. If there is an actual name for her somewhere, let me know, and I will change it :) 
> 
> Also posted directly on the Kink meme. Minor edits have been made in this version.

There were few things in this world that Clarus Amicitia loved as much as his son.

Iris. His late wife, Ceres. Regis. Scotch.

Just a few.

There were even fewer things that brought him more pride than watching Gladiolus in action. The boy had grown up admirably, in spite of the distance Clarus’ duties had forced between them. He was strong and brave, a bit foolhardy at times, yes, but also fiercely, fiercely loyal and proud to uphold the family honor. He had become a true shield, and one day, he would serve Prince Noctis to the utmost of his ability. In truth, there was very little else Clarus would have wanted in a son, though he’d never say as much out loud.

Except, perhaps…

Well.

Maybe Gladiolus could have been a bit _less_ oblivious sometimes.

Now, he wasn’t stupid. Not at all. He’d gotten good marks in school. He was smart, he could think on his feet, he was observant - he had to be, as a matter of his duties to the prince. A shield was no use if he couldn’t figure out where and when and from whom his liege needed his protection.

No, Gladiolus was smart. Intelligent, even. He was certainly well read, if the stacks and stacks of books lining his room in the Amicitia manor were any indication. The majority were, surprisingly, romance novels. Clarus had never cared for the genre himself - altogether too much bodice ripping, lusty stares, and _engorged members_ for his tastes - but if it made his son happy, who was he to judge?

But it only made things more confusing for him.

How could somehow who read harlequin novels like they were going out of style be so _bloody_ clueless when it came to their own romantic endeavors?

He was speaking, of course, of Gladiolus’ crush on one Ignis Scientia.

It was ridiculously obvious; everyone knew about it at this point. The wistful stares and longing sighs were practically a running joke among the Crownsguard. Hell, Regis knew about it, _Regis,_ the King, the _one_ man in the kingdom of Lucis who was too busy and too important to care about such things. He found it humorous, of course, always taking the time to ask Clarus how things were progressing between the two.

Abysmally.

It was going abysmally.

And Regis, the _bastard,_ never let him forget it.

Clarus had half a mind to sit the boy down himself and ask why he hadn’t gotten off his ass and done something. It wasn’t as if Ignis didn’t return his feelings; that too, was painstakingly obvious to anyone with eyes, or ears, or hell, half a brain. He could’ve demanded to know why Ignis wasn’t doing anything, why Ignis hadn’t taken the initiative and asked Gladiolus out. But he was sure Ignis had his reasons, and furthermore, Ignis wasn’t his son.

Would’ve been rude to just… accost him in the hallway.

No, if he was going to say something, he was going to say it to Gladiolus.

And he had better say it _soon_ or he was going to lose his damn mind.

Two weeks. He’d give it two weeks. If nothing had happened by them, he would ask Gladiolus what exactly he thought he was accomplishing by mooning over Ignis from across the room. And then he’d tell the kid to buck up, to pull up himself up by his bootstraps, and ask the poor boy out.

Nicely, of course.

It was what Ceres would have insisted upon.

* * * * *

“Daddy, we have to do something,” Iris announced one day, leaning over the counter as Clarus read the morning paper.

He looked up, not sure what his daughter meant. “Hmm?”

“About Gladdy,” she clarified.

“What about him?” Clarus asked.

“Him and Iggy!” She made a frustrated noise, snatching a piece of toast from his plate. “He’s so obvious, Daddy. I just want to - smoosh their faces together and make them kiss! Oooh, or maybe I’ll trip Gladdy when he’s not looking, make him fall into Ignis-”

“That only works in comics, Iris.”

“You never know!” She took a bite of toast, chewing it thoughtfully. “Hmmm, what about a trick text message? I could pretend to be Gladdy, tell Iggy that I need to tell him something important!”

“Iris-”

“Oh, it would be brilliant!”

“It’s also _meddling._ ”

She was completely unfazed by the accusation. “So?”

“So it’s wrong,” he huffed.

“Daddy, you know how dumb Gladdy can be about these kinds of things,” Iris protested. “You know he can’t be trusted to do this on his own!”

“I know-”

“He’ll never ask Iggy out!”

“Maybe not-”

“I have to do something, I really do!”

“Iris, no!”

“Why?”

“ _Because!_ ” Clarus snapped. “Something could go _wrong._ ”

“It’s Gladdy, Daddy,” Iris said flatly. “Something _is_ going to go wrong.”

“Yes, but at least that way it’ll be _him_ mucking things up, and not you or me. Besides,” he huffed. “Think of Ignis. What would you do if something we did hurt him?”

Iris sighed, bottom lip jutting out into a pout even as she accepted this point as valid. “ _Fine,_ ” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “But we have to do _something._ ”

“Hmph.”

“We do, Daddy,” she insisted. “I’m _dying_ here. It’s so obvious they like each other! Why won’t Gladdy just ask him out already?!”

Hell, if he knew.

Iris had made some good points though. Meddling was a little too extreme for Clarus’ tastes, but the time had finally come. Two weeks had passed, and Gladiolus was no closer to asking Ignis out than he was to announcing he was giving up his fondness for monosodium glutamate and prepackaged noodles.

No. The time had come for Clarus to talk some sense in him. No more waiting.

“Alright,” he announced after a moment’s consideration, setting the paper down and dusting his hands off. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Really?!” Iris asked, excited. “Will you, Daddy?”

“Of course I will,” Clarus said gruffly. “What else do fathers and sons talk about?”

“Guns,” was Iris’ flat reply. “Swords. Booze. Boobs. Butts. Sex-”

Clarus cleared his throat, very uncomfortable with hearing his daughter talk about breasts, butts, and sexual intercourse in front of him. “You’re going to be late for school.”

“Right! Later, Daddy!”

* * * * *

“So? How are things progressing?”

Clarus glared at his old friend, hating the way Regis smiled at him as he slowly drank his tea. “You bloody well know how things are progressing,” he snapped. He ignored the teacup that had been set out for him, instead stalking over to the liquor cabinet at the side of the room and picking out a large decanter of brandy. “Which is to say, _they aren’t._ ”

Regis chuckled. “Oh, to be young and in love,” he said.

“You’d think he’d grow a pair of eyes and notice Scientia likes him back,” Clarus continued, returning to his seat at the King’s side and popping the lid off the bottle of alcohol. “But _no._ That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”

“Be nice, Clarus. I remember having to prod and poke at you to talk to Ceres.”

“Ridiculous,” Clarus scoffed.

“You wouldn’t even _look_ at her until I said something-”

“Not true.” Clarus shook his head, taking a swig of brandy. “Patently false.”

“And I daresay, if it wasn’t for my astute intervention, you wouldn’t have gotten so far as a first date, let alone marry her!”

“I would’ve asked her out eventually. I was just… working up the courage.”

Regis laughed. “And you wonder where Gladiolus gets it from.”

Again, Clarus glared at him. “All due respect, your Majesty, but piss off.”

The King was nonplussed. “You two are more alike than you think, Clarus,” he mused, taking a sip of his tea. “The resemblance is downright uncanny at times! Like this one.”

Clarus made a grumpy noise, but he really couldn’t deny the accusation.

Because, gods damn him, it was true. He and Gladiolus _were_ alike, in so many ways. It was why they’d butted heads so often when Gladiolus was growing up.

“I’m going to talk to him,” he announced.

“Oh?”

“Later,” Clarus said, nodding. “I have to act, Regis. It's - it's maddening, waiting for him to act on his own.”

“Give him a little nudge,” Regis agreed. “Boost his confidence, bolster his ego.”

Clarus snorted. “As if he needs a bigger ego.”

“Another - regrettable - instance of family resemblance.”

“And is Noctis as much of an ass as you are?”

“More, if Ignis is to be believed.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I’ll try to arrange a viewing.”

“How kind of you.”

“So.” Regis paused to refill his teacup. “Thought of what you’re going to say?”

“Oh, I haven’t a clue.”

Regis chuckled. “I presumed as much.”

“How hard can it be?” Clarus asked. “I’ll sit him down, ask him what the hell he’s waiting for, and then give him some advice!”

“You, giving romantic advice? Gods preserve the boy.”

“And what would you say, then? Hmm?”

“That I’d noticed the way that he looked at Ignis, and the way that Ignis looked at him,” Regis replied, smiling. “I’d tell him that Ignis seemed to like him very much, that if he did have some sort of feelings for the man, he should act upon them. I’d encourage him to action, to do what his heart told him to do.”

Clarus blinked. “Reggie, you’re going soft.”

“Oh, come now, Clarus,” Regis said, laughing.

“I’m not saying any of that.”

“Of course not. You always do things your own way.” His tone was exasperated, but also fond, and Clarus knew it wasn’t a reprimand. He took another drink of brandy, perhaps a little _too_ much, his throat burning as the alcohol slid down his throat. “But you _did_ ask me what I would say, in your situation.”

“I did. I’m ignoring it.”

“Stubborn old goat.”

“Hmph.”

“I saw them the other day, you know.”

Clarus looked up, frowning. “Who?”

“Your son and Ignis,” Regis clarified. “Gladiolus was carrying him to the medical wing.”

Clarus blinked, unaware that Ignis had even been injured.

“It was a minor injury, just a sprained ankle,” Regis continued. “I’m not even sure how it happened. Noctis didn’t know when I asked. But one thing that was abundantly clear to me was that your son cares about him, Clarus. A very great deal.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you know that?”

Clarus did know. He had been in love once, he knew how it felt.

And he damn well knew what it looked like on another person.

He sighed, setting the brandy aside.

He supposed he could be partially to blame for Gladiolus’ inaction. Clarus had never really talked to him about love or romance or anything else of that nature. There had been a sex talk, once, when Gladiolus had started… developing.  

And hadn’t _that_ gotten well, he thought, snorting.

He had never mentioned how he’d met Ceres, however, how they had dated and courted and married. The pain had been too near when Gladiolus had been young, and then… well, he’d pointedly forgotten it, that being easier than feeling those memories again. So he had never spoken to his son, man to man, about what it meant to be in love, about how an Amicitia went about the art of wooing. He had never told him what it was like to love, and to be loved in return.

Maybe it was too late. Maybe Gladiolus was too old for that kind of thing now, and hell, maybe he’d figured it out on his own.

But Clarus would try to get him to act on his feelings.

Astrals preserve him, he would.

* * * * *

“Dad? You here?”

Clarus looked up at the sound of a door opening and closing, followed quickly by a pair of heavy footsteps and his son’s voice.

“In the study!” he called back, setting aside the report he’d been reading.

A moment later, Gladiolus appeared in the doorway, hair damp and smelling faintly of shampoo. He’d likely just come up from the training rooms, finished with the day’s task of putting new Crownsguard recruits through their paces.

He sat down in the chair across from Clarus, sprawling out in a relaxed manner. “You wanted to talk to me, you said?” he asked.

“I do,” Clarus agreed, nodding.

“‘Bout what?”

Here, Clarus hesitated.

When he’d called his son earlier, he’d not had the foggiest idea what he was going to say to him about the… about the _situation._ But he had known that he would have several hours until Gladiolus was free, and so he’d retreated into his study, closing the door and ordering Jared to not allow him to be distracted. Surely, with a few hours’ time, he could come up with something to say.

Or so he’d thought.

Now that the time had actually come, however, he was faced with the annoying reality - accompanied by the mental image of Regis’ smug, smiling face, of course - that he hadn’t managed to come up with _anything._

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Less than nothing, even.

Gladiolus was waiting for him to say something, an expectant look on his face. He’d tilted his head to the side a bit, eyes slightly narrowed in anticipation.

Clarus sighed, biting the side of his cheek. There was nothing for it, was there? He was just going to have to come right out and say it. He was just going to have to-

“Gladiolus, enough is enough.”

“Huh?”

“Your sister and I can’t take it anymore.”

“Dad, what-”

“You, and the Scientia boy.”

“Ignis?”

“Why haven’t you asked him out already?”

Gladiolus flushed, a dark red staining his cheeks. “I, uh-”

“Is it that you think he won’t accept? That you’re afraid to lose his friendship? Come now, Gladiolus, I never raised you to be a coward-”

“Dad, listen-”

“And it’s completely obvious that Ignis likes you back, boy, gods, he makes you dinner _four nights a week,_ and Iris said he smiles whenever he talks about you-”

“He does?”

“Everyone knows! Everyone keeps waiting for one of you two to make a move! Hell, even _Regis_ is on my ass about this, wanting to know when he should expect a wedding invitation, of all things-”

“Gods, Dad, _stop!”_

Clarus paused, taking a deep breath, only now recognizing the flood of words that had just poured from his mouth.

Well.

Better out than in.

He cleared his throat, clasping his hands in front of him so that he wouldn’t fidget, so he wouldn’t try to run them through hair that wasn’t… well, _there_ anymore.

“I said I would talk to you about it.”

“Yeah. Got it.”

Gladiolus looked mortified - an unusual expression for his face, one Clarus wasn’t used to seeing. But there something else there too, a hopeful glint to his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“You, uh… you said everyone knows?”

“ _Everyone,_ Gladiolus.” He snorted. “Cor’s been giving me shit about it for weeks during our sparring sessions.”

“Sounds like him.”

“Do you know how hard it is to fight Cor Leonis when he’s teasing you?”

“Pretty fucking hard, I’m guessing, since he’s _pretty fucking hard_ to fight when he _isn’t_ talking smack.”

“Exactly.”

“And… the King?”

“Yep.”

“Gods.” Gladiolus ran a hand over his face. “Do you talk about me to all your friends?”

“Actually, I try not to,” Clarus admitted. “It’s normally Noctis we discuss.”

Gladiolus snorted.

“And if it’s… any consolation… everything thinks you two would look good together.”

“Yeah, I’m still trying to work through the ‘my dad’s a fucking gossip’ part of this conversation,” Gladio retorted. A moment later, he added, “And of course we’d look good together. We’re hot.”

Clarus felt it best he not comment on that.

“So everyone wants me to do something, huh?”

Clarus nodded.

“I was gonna do it, you know. Ask him out. I was just… waitin’ for the right time.”

“And when was that?”

“...dunno. Guess I _gotta_ act now though, since apparently, everyone knows about this and is talkin’ about me behind my back like it’s a fucking soap opera.”

Clarus ignored the bite in his words, choosing instead to focus on the agreement to action. “Got a plan?”

“No, I don’t fucking have a plan!”

“Well, how about-”

“Oh, no.” Gladiolus pushed himself away from the desk, rising to his feet. “I’m not taking advice on how to get a boyfriend from _you._ ”

Clarus felt slightly offended. “And why the hell not?” he demanded.

“Because you’ll talk about it to your friends, for one thing!”

“They’ll talk about you anyways, Gladiolus!”

“No. No, no, _no._ I am doing this on my way. My way, not yours.”

“Hmph. Fine. Just so long as you actually _do_ something, I suppose I can’t complain.”

“Bite me.”

“Would it get you off your ass?”

“I’m leaving now.” Gladiolus yanked open the door to the study.

“To talk to Ignis?”

“Bye, Dad.”

“Make me proud, son!”

* * * * *

A week later, Ignis arrived at the Amicitia manor to have dinner, Gladiolus standing proud at his side.

Clarus was quiet and polite all through the meal, asking Ignis the mundane, disinteresting type of questions that were asked at these sorts of functions, keeping his real inquiries to himself. Gladiolus was watching him like a hawk, as if he were ready to step in at a moment’s notice if Clarus _tried_ anything.

Ridiculous.

As if Clarus would get caught snooping at the dinner table.

He waited until _after_ dinner, when Iris had cornered Gladiolus and dragged him off to the living room, intent upon selecting a movie to watch. He waited until Ignis had offered to help him clear the table, to help him clean up the dishes.

And then… he pounced.

“I see my son finally worked up the guts to ask you out,” he offered gruffly, taking a stack of plates from Ignis and setting them in the sink.

“Indeed,” Ignis replied, amused.

“He do it right?”

“Well enough.”

Clarus nodded. It seemed like that was all he was going to get. Perhaps Gladiolus had warned Ignis that Clarus would try to get the truth out of him.

Still, he could sleep a little easier at night knowing his son had managed to do _something_ right.

Finally.

“I’m a little surprised you didn’t just ask _him_ out,” Clarus admitted. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Of course, sir. Gladiolus is dreadful at hiding things.”

Clarus snorted.

“But I rather thought it would be an interesting experiment.”

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to see how long it would take him to make a move,” Ignis clarified. “I was timing it, actually. There was a bet going, you see, between Noctis and I. The prince didn’t think Gladio would ever bring himself to do it. But I had faith.”

Clarus snorted. “I didn’t,” he admitted.

“Is that why you gave him a little push?”

“That, and Iris was threatening to intervene.”

“Yes?” Ignis chuckled. “That might have been amusing to watch.”

“You might think it less amusing when you hear what she planned to do. Banana peels were involved.”

“Banana peels…?”

“Better not to ask, Ignis.”

Ignis smiled. “Of course, sir.” He stepped up to the sink, grabbing a cloth to dry off the dishes as Clarus cleaned them. “I do suppose I owe you my thanks, though.”

“For what, goading my son into action?” Clarus shook his head. “Don’t thank me, boy. He did all the talking.”

“I think I should, just the same. If not for prodding him on, then for accepting me as a potential partner for your son.”

Oh.

Clarus stared at Ignis for a moment, considering him.

This was more serious than he’d first thought - Gladiolus and Ignis. This wasn’t just some infatuation, some teenage crush. This was something they had _thought_ about, something with a future.

Something big.

The thought surprised him less than he would have suspected.

“Course I do,” he said. “You’re a good man, Ignis. He needs that. Someone to keep him focused, someone to rein him in. And,” he added, leaning forward, “Someone to occasionally pull him up by his bootstraps.” He leaned back, grabbing the soap. “Think you can do that?”

Ignis smiled. “I believe I can, sir.”

Clarus nodded, and a clapped a hand to Ignis’ shoulder.

“Welcome to the family, son.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) Hope I did the OP's wishes justice.
> 
> Any other prompts you think I can fill? I have lots of time to waste on these boys :)


End file.
